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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912748">In The Summer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbird5523/pseuds/songbird5523'>songbird5523</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/F, Summer, Teen Romance, foxxay - Freeform, lil gaybies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:08:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbird5523/pseuds/songbird5523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cordelia”.</p><p>“What?” I sputter, finally finding my words.</p><p>“Cordelia. That’s my name.” She smiles as the boys run off.</p><p>“Cordelia”, I say, trying the name out on my tongue. I like it, I decide. </p><p>~~~~~~<br/>Misty's not used to having a lot of friends in the sleepy lake town she grew up in, so when she meets Cordelia, she doesn't want to blow her chances. As time goes on however, is it friendship that she really wants??</p><p>Rural lake town AU. Admittedly self-indulgent in both the setting and the amount of awkward but wholesome Misty content I've inserted into this, because it feeds my soul. And it's my first fic!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In The Garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi all! So this is my first attempt at a fancfiction, and I of course had to write it about everyone's favorite (and totally gay) witches, lol. </p><p>Please let me know what you think of this so far, as I'm excited to work on it while I have a break from school! Any and all feedback is welcomed. This will be a bit of a slow burn and we're seeing everything from Misty's perspective, for now. </p><p>Also. Gah. I just watched Apocalypse and am OVERWHELMED.</p><p>Ok now, enjoy!!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The birds chirped cheerfully as I crunched my way through the path in the woods behind the semi-abandoned community center. I say semi-abandoned because they do hold events there every so often in the summer, when the tourists come. Only a few of us local families brave the cold months in rural Maine, but I find beauty here in every season. Just being around all of the nature and animals feeds my soul like nothing else. </p><p>I took a second to listen to the birds as I trekked my way back to our cabin, knowing that once I got home with the firewood I wouldn’t have much peace. I’m the third of six kids in my family, so growing up, peace was a rarity second only to that of solitude. Sure enough, as I rounded the corner of the road to get back to the house, a gruff voice called out my name.<br/>
“Misty!”, my father yelled, “Is that you back with the firewood?”<br/>
“Yes, daddy. I have it right here for ‘ya.” I reply hurriedly, depositing the surprisingly large pile of logs I’d been able to carry into his strong arms.<br/>
“Thank ya, Misty girl” he says with a wide smile lighting up his slowly aging features. My dad was quite the outdoorsman himself, and likely the reason I’d always felt such a calling to nature.<br/>
“It’s getting to be warmer—we won’t be needing to heat up the place so often for much longer” he remarks.</p><p>I smiled at this statement, for as much as winter was icy and beautiful, the town came alive in the summertime. Dad laughs at the look of glee on my face, “I know you’re excited, Misty-girl.” I nod excitedly.<br/>
He shakes his head slightly, with a playful glint in his eye, “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you. One of these summers, I’m afraid you’re gonna run off with one of those rich tourist boys and never come back!”.<br/>
My cheeks turn red. While I loved summer for the rich glow of sunshine and the iridescent greenery, the days seemingly teeming with life, it was true that I also relished the season for the chance to see other kids my age.<br/>
We did, after all, live in a rural lake town year-round. I spent most of the off-season daydreaming about all the friends I’d make come summertime.<br/>
“Oh daddy, stop it!” I say, “You know that won’t happen!”.<br/>
“I’m just teasing, I’m just teasing”, he laughs, “And I’m all set out here here”.</p><p>I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and head inside, passing the whirlwind of my little brothers on my way. “Hi darlin’!”, my mother yells from where she sits at the kitchen table, no doubt answering emails from her work or the church group she heads. I greet her and traipse upstairs to the room I share with my older sister, Allison.<br/>
My self-involved, sometimes mean, and, dare I say bratty older sister largely ignores me as she lies on her bed, eyes glued to her phone, showing little interest in my presence at all. Well, fine then. Two can play at that game, I think, and walk over to my record player. After the hour I just spent out in the woods gathering firewood, I decide that I need a little relaxation. I pull out my favorite vinyl records and mull over them. My go-to is usually Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, but I feel that it’s more of a Stevie moment than the whole band—I often ended up skipping the songs Lindsey sang lead on anyway, preferring Stevie’s vocal to his gruffer tone. I land on her 1986 release, Rock a Little, and settle in, setting the needle to play the last track, Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You—one of my favorites. </p><p>I lay down on my twin bed for the first time since waking up that day, hoping to relax a bit before dinner. I close my eyes and let the sounds of Stevie’s voice lull me to sleep, until--“DO YOU HAVE TO PLAY THIS WOMAN ON A CONSTANT LOOP?” Allison screamed, now suddenly taking note of my existence.<br/>
“Well hi, to you too, sister.” I smile brightly, “Just listen—don’t it feel like she just—just knows you? Knows everything you’ve ever needed to hear, and then some?”<br/>
My eyes flutter open, now seeing the incredulous look on my sister’s face.<br/>
“You need to chill with the incessant girl crush you have on this 70-year-old woman, Misty. It’s weird.”<br/>
I frown, “It’s not a—“ I start to protest.<br/>
Allison raises her eyebrows higher, “You know the story behind everything this woman’s ever done, you worship her like she’s some sort of goddess, and you come home after a day’s work to listen to her to help you relax. Why don’t you just listen to Harry Styles or something?”<br/>
“Oh! I know him!”, I say with excitement, “He sang with Stevie last year!”<br/>
“Oh my God.”, Allison huffed in annoyance, “Can you at least, like, get some headphones?”<br/>
“Daddy says the sound quality on vinyl records—” I start only to be cut off yet again, “I know what Daddy says, Misty! But it’s the 21st century and you’re not 70 years old. Get yourself some damn air pods.” She stalks out of the room, no doubt to sulk on the couch downstairs.<br/>
The needle catches as the song ends, and as it’s the last song on the album, Stevie’s voice no longer fills the room—not that I’d heard much of it due to my sister’s impromptu screaming. </p><p>I hate to let my sister get to me, but a gnawing feeling grew in my chest after what she’d said. I looked up at my walls, covered mostly in my own artwork and of course my most prized possession—a framed Stevie Nicks concert poster from the 80’s that Dad had given me for my 16th birthday.<br/>
There’s nothing wrong with liking Stevie. I think, and after all, it wasn’t as if I—like-liked Stevie. Like Allison said, she was way older. And I just appreciated her art. It was way different. Allison was probably just saying that ‘cos she was jealous that Dad and I bonded over Fleetwood Mac. </p><p>But then again…I looked over at Allison’s side of the wall. She was two years older than me and had just finished her freshman year of college only a week prior, so she hadn’t had much time to redecorate. Over the months she’d been gone, the same posters hung on her wall, reminiscent of her long-past obsessions—namely one very large One Direction poster.<br/>
I suddenly shake the silly thoughts and doubts from my head, getting myself together. “This is dumb!” I say aloud. I wouldn’t let my sister get in my head just because she was tired of hearing Stevie. I switch out the vinyl I had on for Bella Donna and lay back down, sticking to my original plan of relaxation before dinner.</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>About an hour later I venture downstairs. Sure enough, Allison is sulking on the couch. Probably on Tiktok, I presume. It looked like Mom was set working on dinner, so I headed outside to see what the boys were up to. As I walked out, a little body with a mop of light brown hair barreled into my legs.<br/>
“What do you think you’re doin’?!” I yell playfully as I grabbed my little brother Rory and hoisted him up over my shoulders. </p><p>“Nooo!” he yelled, his little blue eyes shining with glee, “Don’t let Tristan get me!”</p><p>At that moment, Tristan, my 10-year-old brother ran up to us, “Hey, no fair!” he yelled, “I can’t tag him if you hold him way up high like that!”.<br/>
“Well then, I guess you’ll have to find Ryan then”, I point out.<br/>
Tristan pouted. “That’s no fair either. Ry’s older than me. I can’t catch him!”.<br/>
I laughed again, still holding a triumphant Rory high above our brother’s head.<br/>
“So how do you think your little brother feels then?” I asked.</p><p>He paused for a second, and in his hesitation, I put Rory down, only to capture Tristan and start tickling him. “NOO MISTY!” he screamed with laughter.<br/>
Finally I took mercy on him, “Okay Tristan, you can tag me. I’ll be it. I’ll even give you a head start” I said.<br/>
Rory ran up to us, “I want to play a different game!” he yelled in his squeaky little tone. I think I’ll always have a soft spot for that kid.<br/>
“What do you want to play, Rory?” I asked patiently.<br/>
“Hide and Seek!” he exclaimed with a burst of excitement. Our other two brothers rolled their eyes. “That game’s for babies”, Tristan complained. Ryan nodded his ascent. I couldn’t take the heartbroken look in little Rory’s eyes, so I tried to think of something quick, when all of a sudden the perfect answer came to me.</p><p>“Sardines!” I said excitedly.<br/>
“Sardines?” Ryan asked in disgust, “like…the food?”<br/>
I laughed, “Nooo. Sardines is a game Allison and Molly and I used to play with some kids around here in the summertime. It’s like reverse hide and seek—one person hides, and then everyone else has to find them. Once you find them, you hide with them, and the last one to find everyone loses!”<br/>
The boys light up at that, and I know my compromise is a good one.<br/>
“Ok Misty, you’re it.” said Tristan.<br/>
“Well, ok then," I scoff, but I smile at him to let him know I’m just teasing. </p><p>“You three stand here on the dock and count—give me at least a minute or so. The boundaries are from here until the end of the street, and the next street over. Since it’s still April, we shouldn’t have to worry about any neighbors.” I tell them, “and if you give up—since I’m the best hider ever—you have to yell ‘Olly olly oxen free, Misty is the best and we will never beat her, we surrender!’”</p><p>Ryan glares at me. “Just go.”<br/>
I smile at him, cocky grin on my face, “Start countin, boys!”</p><p>They do just that, and I take off. Allison tells me I’m too old to be playing these games with our little brothers, but what else am I supposed to do when no one’s around? At least I’m not wasting my life away staring at a phone screen, like her. I survey the other cottages and cabins on our street, most of them empty since it’s late springtime and not quite time for the summer crowd to move on in. I sneak through the backyard of a neighboring house and spot a garden full of bushes where I can hide. After all, I am playing with my three little brothers. One of them is 8 years old. I can’t make it too challenging.</p><p>After a few minutes, I find myself wishing I had taken Allison’s advice and gotten some air pods, because I feel close to dying of boredom. As I survey my surroundings more closely however, I start to get nervous. I look at the bushes around me. Some are wild raspberry bushes, which is normal for this area, but the one closest to me—it has roses on it. And it looks like someone’s been taking care of it.<br/>
I come to this realization way too late, as I hear a door slam from behind me and see someone enter the garden—Shit! Shit! Shit! No one should be here this time of year! There’s not even a car in the driveway!<br/>
I try to quiet my thoughts as a young girl, about my age, makes her way over near me, completely unaware of my presence. My eyes rake in her appearance: honey blonde hair, hidden partially under a wide brimmed hat, and warm brown eyes focused on her current mission—what it is, I can’t tell from my hidden spot. I notice in that moment that she has air pods in—must be here at her summer home early—and as I lean over to get a closer look, I see that she’s emptying food into a compost bin!<br/>
“Yes!” I yell excitedly, forgetting where I am for a second, filled with excitement at the prospect of an individual as passionate as I was about the importance of sustainability.<br/>
I slap my hand over my mouth. That was a mistake. Maybe she didn’t hear me because of the air pods?<br/>
No such luck. She turns around quickly, “Who was that?!” she asks, a tint of fear in her voice.<br/>
Nice going, Misty. Way to scare off your best chance at a friend this summer by hiding out like a creep in her garden.<br/>
I figured it was best to address the situation head on.<br/>
“I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, standing up from the bushes. She stares in shock, and I’m about to apologize again when, for the second time that day, Rory barrels into my legs. “Misty! You’re such a bad hider!” he giggles, “I win!”<br/>
I look down at him exasperatedly, and look back up at the poor girl who now had not one, but two strangers in her garden, when—“I’M GONNA GET THERE FIRST!!” yet another scream breaks through perhaps the most awkward situation I have ever experienced (which is saying something). I turn to look at Ryan and Tristan all-out sprinting toward us and glance up apologetically at this still unknown stranger, who looks baffled—but at this point, slightly amused.<br/>
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to get more than two words out until my brothers finished their race, I scoop Rory up to protect him from the incoming speed racers and watched as, predictably, Ryan beats Tristan to us.<br/>
“Why were you just standing here, Misty? You were so easy to find.” Rory says, looking between me and the woman we’d yet to introduce ourselves to, “and who are you? Are you friends?”<br/>
She looks at me, a ghost of a smile playing across her face, “Yeah, Misty. You didn’t do such a great job hiding, did you?” She smirks, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach. I open my mouth to reply, but I'm suddenly unable to find adequate words to respond, which is a foreign feeling to me. As I scramble for something, anything—just ask her her name, Misty!—we hear a voice from the next street over: our parents calling us back for dinner. The boys tug me to go, and I’ve never felt so utterly dumbfounded. I didn’t even speak a word to this girl; I look at her helplessly as they pull me away. I didn’t explain myself at all, though I’m hoping my brothers exclamations were explanation enough.<br/>
I’m disappointed in myself. She could’ve been a chance to have a real friend, and I look like an idiot, not even able to talk to her long enough to ask her name. I go to turn away fully, when—</p><p>“Cordelia”.</p><p>“What?” I sputter, finally finding my words.</p><p>“Cordelia. That’s my name.” She smiles as the boys run off.</p><p>“Cordelia”, I say, trying the name out on my tongue. I like it, I decide. </p><p>She laughs a little and goes back to her compost bin. I want to stay. I want to tell her everything I know about composting, and ask if she also uses her compost as fertilizer, and talk about gardening, and the best conditions for raising produce, and brush her hand with mine as we get closer—wait. What? Allison really did get into my head. </p><p>I shake my thoughts away for the second time that night and open my mouth to say something appropriate, like my original plan--stick to compost, Misty-- when a yell from my father bellows from the street over.</p><p>“MISTY!”</p><p> I continue to stare at her lamely, now rattled again.</p><p>“Looks like you have to go” she laughs, “I’ll see you around though?” with that, she gathers herself together and heads back inside her house, shooting me one last smile.<br/>
I run back home, maybe faster than I ever have before. I was filled with something, though I didn’t know quite what. It was like a sort of warmth was spreading its way throughout me, carrying me home light as a feather. I make it home in record time and sat down at the table. “What took you so long?” my mother asks.<br/>
As I think of an explanation, Rory pipes up for me, “She was talking to a girl in her garden on the next street. Well, actually the girl talked. Misty just stood there.”<br/>
“Well that doesn’t sound like Misty at all”, my dad joked, as my mother piped in, “Misty, that’s not very nice of you…you know we have to be friendly with all the neighbors, especially the summer folks.”<br/>
“I know, I know!” I said, perhaps a little too loudly, still caught off guard from this entire experience, “I wasn’ bein’ rude, I just…I felt weird...”<br/>
“You felt weird?” for some reason, Allison chooses this moment to pipe in, smug grin on her face, “why would you feel—”<br/>
“Because I was hiding in her backyard!” I yell to cut her and whatever nonsense she was about to spew off.<br/>
“Why were you hiding in someone’s backyard?” my mother asks, a hint of disapproval in her voice. “Misty, I think you’re a little too old for that…”<br/>
“Okay, let’s let it go for now.” My dad interjected, “It seems like Misty’s learned enough of a lesson herself today.”<br/>
I throw him a grateful glance and start to dig into my meal, having no problem catching up with everyone due to my ravenous appetite. </p><p>I tried hard not to smile too much because I knew they’d see through it, so I stayed quiet and tried to fly under the radar. </p><p>I couldn’t wait to see what the summer could hold with my new friend. Cordelia.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. honey & chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey folks, back at it with a second chapter here. I'm trying to set the stage well for the next steps, so this one is mainly Misty and a lot of the...turbulent thoughts she's going through, lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stevie Nicks wrote the song <em>Rhiannon </em>because she was so taken with the beauty of the name that she just <em>had </em>to write about it. I’d never quite understood what she meant until now. I found myself wishing I could write music, because Cordelia’s name played like a loop in my head for days after our initial meeting. I had so many questions about her, but I didn’t really know what she thought of me. Was she laughing <em>with </em>me the other day, or had she been laughing <em>at </em>me?</p><p>After a couple days of pondering, I decided to write Cordelia a letter explaining what had happened, considering I had no idea how to speak in front of her, not to mention the fact that she had no idea where to find <em>me </em>if she wanted to reach out, just a general direction from which she’d heard my name being yelled. I laugh at myself for probably the 300<sup>th</sup>time in three days—<em>why would she want to contact the weird stranger who barged into her garden with her entire family?</em></p><p>I knew I had to redeem myself, so I got to work, figuring I’d use the last couple days of school vacation week to my advantage. After all, Cordelia looked young, so she might still be in high school too, and what if she went back home after this week?</p><p>I settled down with paper and pencil (I didn’t trust myself enough to use a pen for this):</p><p>           </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Cordelia,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>                        I am so sorry I showed up so unannounced in your garden 2 days ago. I didn’t think anybody would be home—most people aren’t this time of year, except for my family and a couple others of course. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t stealing anything or being weird or whatever, my little brothers really wanted me to play a game with them, and, well you saw the rest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            Anyways, while I was hiding in your garden I noticed that you have a lot of cool stuff growing, I don’t know if that’s you growing it or what, but if you ever need any help I’m really good with plants. Not that you need help. Your garden looks awesome. But like, if you want help…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            So, yeah, my family lives here year round and I’ll be finishin up junior year here at the high school in the next couple weeks. So, if you’ll be here this summer, I’ll be here too, like I said, if you need help or would want to hang out or something.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>            And if you don’t want to, you can totally just ignore this. You just seemed really cool, and there aren’t always a ton of people here around my age. I hope you don’t think this is weird. Also I think your name is really cool and unique. And, if you ever need to find me, I live in the blue house on Intervale street.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ok, well, I hope to see you around!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Misty Day</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I checked it over and revised my words about six times before I finally felt satisfied with my letter. I started to fold it up when Allison walked into our room. She ignored me as usual until she saw the paper in my hand.</p><p>Her eyes narrowed, “What are you writing?” she asked, with a hint of accusation in her voice.</p><p>“Oh, it’s just, uhm, it’s jus’ for school.” I said.</p><p>“Aren’t you on break?” she asks.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah uhm, so I had to reflect on how break was.” I explained.</p><p>Allison looked at me, unconvinced.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>I look at her in confusion.</p><p>“So what?”</p><p>“How was your break?” she asks me, “You just <em>hand-wrote </em>a whole paper on it, so you must have something to say, even if you’ve been ignoring all of us the past three days.”</p><p>I blush at her words, “It’s been good. Jus’, you know, taking some time to…reflect.”</p><p>Once again, I can tell my sister doesn’t believe me, but I don’t have time for this right now. “I gotta go” I say, and scamper out, letter in hand. I want to pick some flowers from my own garden to show Cordelia, so that she’ll see I really <em>am </em>a good gardener. Allison shakes her head in disbelief, and I know I’m being completely weird, but it’s like I can’t even help myself.</p><p>            I run downstairs and out of the house, through the family’s garden and round back to where I have my own flower garden. I smile to myself, glad that springtime has given my flowers time to flourish. I pick an assortment of my favorites: snap dragons, sweet peas, and freesia, and center my little bouquet around a few marigolds, my favorite kind of flower.</p><p>            I briefly wonder if Cordelia will think me giving her flowers is odd, but I rationalize it with my explanation in the letter. <em>If she’s a plant person, she’ll get it, </em>I assure myself and begin my short jaunt to her house.</p><p>            As I approach, I momentarily freak out. What do I do if she’s <em>home</em>? I almost turn back, but I press forward—I didn’t snip off some of my favorite flowers for nothing, and I really wanted a new friend, goddammit. This time, there is a car in Cordelia’s driveway, so I opt not to ring the doorbell. I place the handmade bouquet and note at her door and leave it at that, not wanting to overstep again. As I leave Cordelia’s house this time, I smile to myself, feeling much better about the whole experience than I had about our initial meeting.</p><p>            I go home and sit in my garden for a bit. After a while, I hear footsteps approach and soon my older sister is next to me. “So, Molly just called me.”, said Allison.</p><p>“Really?!” I shouted with excitement. Allison smiled, “Yeah, she asked if you and I want to go over to her house for a girl’s night tonight.” My eyes widened. “Wait…I get to come, too?!” I squealed. Allison sighed, “Yeah, well you will be 18 in a few weeks, so we figured…” I cut her off by hugging her big. “Oh Allie, I’m SO excited! I’ll go get ready!!” I exclaimed and ran off in a rush.</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>“Misty. We are not listening to Stevie this entire 40-minute drive.” Allison said as we piled into our dad’s car. He was letting us borrow it for the night to visit Molly, and we’d drive back from Portland in the morning. I sighed, “Okay, okay. Well we can also listen to Joni Mitchell—“ I concede. “I’m DJ-ing for now” Allison interjected. I gave her puppy dog eyes. “Just for a little!” she laughed and put on some music she must have heard in college, because I didn’t have a hint of a clue who Megan Thee Stallion was.</p><p>It wasn’t my style of music, but I could get down with what Allison played, and we had a lot of fun singing together. She even let me play <em>Landslide</em>. Before we knew it, we were at Molly’s house and my oldest sister was pulling us both into a big hug. Molly looked entirely different from most of our family, sporting long red hair where most of us had some version of blonde. “I’ve missed you guys! I’m so glad you’re here!” she shouted and ushered us into her apartment. “Sorry if it’s messy. My roommate’s been gone the past few days, and I’ve been a little lonely, and I’m so happy to see you!”</p><p>Allison and I chuckle as we put our bags down, Molly leading us over to the pullout couch where we’ll eventually sleep later on.</p><p>Molly smiles at me, “Are you ready for your first official girl’s night Misty?”</p><p>I nod nervously. I had no clue what this entailed, and I wasn’t always so good with girly stuff, as Allison loved to remind me any chance she got. My sisters laughed, “It’s no big deal, Misty. We’re just gonna drink wine and play games. Chill out.”, said Allison.</p><p>My eyes went wide—“I get to—I get to drink wine??” I sputtered. Molly laughed at me and pulled me into another bear hug, “Yes, little one. You’ll be 18 soon, this is way overdue. Just don’t tell mom and dad.” I mimed zipping my lips and throwing away the key, and they both shook their heads at me.</p><p> </p><p>A couple hours later, I’m feeling warm and content as I snuggle into Molly’s side on the couch. I’ve had two glasses of wine and am starting to feel giggly and even a bit tired.</p><p>“Oh no, you don’t”, says Allison as I stifle a yawn.</p><p>“Huh?” I ask in confusion.</p><p>“You can’t fall asleep yet. We haven’t gotten to ask you anything juicy yet!” she says.</p><p>I laugh and burrow sleepily into Molly’s side, “You know I don’t have anything juicy to offer, Allie.”</p><p>At this, she raises her eyebrows. “I’m not so sure about that.”</p><p>Molly shifts next to me so that she can see both of our faces. “Misty? What is she talking about?” she asks, a hint of excitement in her voice.</p><p>“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” I say flatly. It’s hard to think with the wine fogging up my brain like this, but I have no clue what Allie could be getting at.</p><p>“The flowers, Misty.” Allison deadpans. I look at her, confused.</p><p>“I was <em>in </em>your garden today. You cut off flowers and you clearly gave them to someone, because they’re not sitting around in any vases at our house. Not to mention the <em>note </em>I watched you writing earlier. So…who is it?”</p><p>My jaw drops a little bit in disbelief, I didn’t think Allie watched me that closely. My stomach dropped a little bit. I didn’t want anyone to know about my note for Cordelia, that was supposed to be special, between us…</p><p>Before I have a chance to reply, Molly is already squealing, “Misty! Oh, this is SO exciting! You haven’t had a crush like this before--”</p><p>“Except for Stevie Nicks” Allison interjected sarcastically. Molly glared at her, shooting daggers with her eyes.</p><p> “<em>Anyways</em>…who are these flowers for, little sis?” Molly asked, smiling at me with encouragement.</p><p>Allison smirked, “I think I know” she began.</p><p>“No. Stop it, it’s—it’s not like that.” I said.</p><p>“Not like what?” Molly asked.</p><p>“She got flowers for the new neighbor, didn’t you Misty?” Allison asked, “Because you were just so <em>speechless</em>, right? You just felt <em>weird </em>because”</p><p>“STOP!” I yelled. “I just wanted to make a friend my age, okay. I swear it isn’t like that. At all.”</p><p>For once, Allie shut up, and it was Molly who glanced at me with a teasing smile. “But Misty…you got him flowers? What kind of a message does that send?” she laughed.</p><p>My cheeks burned red. “No, it’s not…uhm…it’s, the flowers were for my friend Cordelia” I say, my facing glowing even brighter as I say her name. “Which, obviously means that I do NOT mean it like that.”</p><p>Allie shoots Molly a look I’m too tipsy to decipher.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Um, right, yes. Okay! Okay, yeah.” Molly says, gaining confidence as she goes on. “So, Misty, what’s…what’s your friend like, then?”</p><p>“Oh. Well…I don’ really <em>know </em>her all that well yet. I only met her ‘cos I hid in her yard playin sardines with the boys…I didn’t realize she was home.” My cheeks flushed red, “So I’m not even sure we are friends. <em>That</em>is why I left her a <em>note</em>, so she wouldn’t think I was a crazy person.”</p><p> “And the flowers?!” asks Allie.</p><p>“Well, it seemed like she liked flowers, and I thought that would be nice,” I say, taking a rather large sip from my wine glass.</p><p>“That makes sense,” Molly nods.</p><p>“Oh my God.” Allison mumbled under her breath.</p><p>“Well, you don’t know her that well yet, but can you tell me what she looks like?” Molly asks with a hopeful, encouraging smile.</p><p>I hiccupped, the effects of the wine taking over more prominently all of a sudden.</p><p>“Welllll” I giggled, “She’s a little bit shorter than me. And her hair is…well it’s not exactly blonde or brown, it reminds me of honey! Do you think it smells like honey?” I continued, giggling at that thought.</p><p>“And she has brown eyes…they’re really…warm…kind of like…like BROWNIES or something!” I tapered off into more laughter as Molly hugged me tighter. “And I know I didn’t meet her for long or nothin, but I just feel like I could really trust her, she just looked like that kinda person, ya know?” I rambled on.  </p><p>“Oh my goodness. Well it sounds like you guys will be really good friends,” she said kindly.</p><p>Allison rolled her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The three of us tucked into bed soon after and I awoke in the morning wondering why I’d dreamt so vividly of honey and chocolate.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please drop kudos or comments to let me know what you think/what you wanna see or anything! this is my first real stab at writing and I'm having a lot of fun and would love to interact w y'all about it!!!</p>
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